Love Me Dead
by Katherinosaurus
Summary: The story of Davy Jones, from his boyhood in Scotland to his romance with the fearsome sea goddess to his death aboard the Flying Dutchman.
1. Chapter 1

_Disclaimer: _Disney, of course owns most of the main characters. However, Cassandra, David Robert, Rebecca, and the other characters that were obviously not in any of the movies are mine, and I love them. ;)  
Also - The title is inspired by a song! (I know, I'm ever so creative with these things. ;D) _Love Me Dead_, by Ludo. You should definitely give it a listen.

_A/N:_ Seeing as I've been reading an unhealthy amount of POTC fanfics thus far into my summer vacation, I figured it might be best form me to attempt my own in an effort to slake my addiction. x) We'll see how that goes.  
Also, the other fanfic I've been working on (Even If It Kills Me) has had much shorter chapters, and that's basically because I was just testing the waters to see if I was any good at the whole fanfiction thing. This one, on the other hand, is going to have much longer chapters, just as a heads-up. :)  
Just as a side note - For those of you who aren't able to guess just by reading this chapter, this fanfic is centered around my favorite character in the movies, Davy Jones. With any luck, I'll be able to keep this story going through his earlier years, his relationship with Calypso, and maybe even up until his death.  
At any rate, let's get this show on the road!

* * *

The frozen air stung at his face, as if spitting intangible particles of ice against his skin as he stood in the middle of a vacant field, staring up at the clouds with the emerald grass gently brushing against his bare feet, numb to their touch with the cold. He could vaguely discern the soft voice of his mother calling him home over the deep rumbling of thunder in the sky above, but merely ignored the passive cooing and returned his attention to the brewing storm. Grey clouds ripped through the air, shoved along by the unrelenting wind, a few raindrops plunging downwards to rest in the rolling green fields below.

A young Davy Jones reached his arms up towards the sky, attempting to be carried away on a current of wind. It didn't matter where he'd be swept off to, so long as it wasn't here. The docility of the Scottish farmlands was a prison for his spirit; one that longed to create adventures and become a legend of its own. The winds settled a bit, allowing the rain to begin falling in sheets across the frigid plains of grass.

As the rain soaked through his clothes, Davy let out a frustrated scream at the sky, wishing the next few years would evaporate and leave him at an age worthy for sea travel and sword fighting and mysterious adventure. He stood on the top of the grassy knoll, rainwater flowing off of him for a while longer, contemplating how he would make his fortune in exotic lands as soon as he was free. He barely noticed the small hand that reached up and tugged at his sleeve, and only then did he become aware of the tiny, frightened voice calling his name. Looking down, he was met with the big, brown eyes of his younger sister, staring up at him concernedly.

"What are ye doin' out 'ere in such dreadful weather?" He asked, smiling and scooping the little girl into his arms, sheltering her from the elements.

"Mum says you've not been listenin' to 'er. She been callin' you fer near 'alf an 'our!" The little creature chirped back, shaking the water from her hair like a wet dog.

"An' so she sent the fearsome Queen Becky to come an' retrieve me?" Davy grinned, raising an eyebrow and beginning to make his way back across the fields to their home.

"I 'ent a queen fer today," Rebecca pouted and crossed her arms.

"Oh? Then what is it yer pretendin' to be now?" Davy would have been embarrassed to admit it, but he'd always found his sibling's games amusing, and he loved her a great deal. The only thing keeping him tied to their homestead was the threat of her no longer having her big brother to protect her and take care of her. He would wait until she was capable of caring for herself to start living the life he desired more than anything.

"I be a angel! They've got all sorts of magics an' they can fly!" She explained excitedly, holding her arms above her head and making imitative flying motions.

"Is'at so?" Davy tickled Becky gently and tossed her into the air, eliciting a shriek of joy and surprise from the small girl, "'Ent angels supposed to be from 'Eaven?"

"Mummy says I 'em!" Becky smiled, clinging to her brother and shaking the rainwater from her hair once more.

"Ah, and that'd be why ye placed them toads in m'boots just three days past, is it? Ye wee devilish child," Davy tickled his sister a little more, stopping only when she pinched his shoulder with her delicate fingers, "Alas, ye've wounded me!" He feigned, holding the back of his hand to his forehead and stumbling forward, dropping to his knees.

"Yer a right bad pretender, ye are," Becky observed, sticking her tongue out at Davy as he set her on the ground and flopped himself onto the grass, "Come off it, Davy, we'd best be gettin' back to the 'ouse."

"I can't 'ear ye, I'm bleedin' out," Davy croaked, glancing at Becky out of the corner of his eye and failing to suppress a grin at the sight of the child pouting in the rain, her eyebrow raised quizzically as she watched him. Taking his exponentially-larger hand in her own and throwing his arm over her shoulder, she tugged him towards their home.

"Fine, fine, I'll gi'up, ye demandin' lil' child," Davy stood, brushing the grass from his shirt and breeches, taking Rebecca up into his arms again, "What's fer supper?"

"I dunno, but it smelt pretty 'orrible."

"Gee, thanks fer the warnin'."

"If ye 'urry, it'll at least be warm, ye git."

"'Ey, no name callin', or I 'ent carryin' ye 'ome."

"'Ave it yer way, then, Captain Davy."

Davy grinned, "Tha's Captian Jones, to ye, Ms. Rebecca."

They made it to the house in a matter of minutes, shedding their wet clothes and wandering into the kitchen where their mother stood at the stove, stirring a pot of mysterious soup-like substance which indeed smelled quite horrible. She shot them a look over her shoulder.

"Ye ought not be playin' in such weather, David Michael," She sighed, removing the pot from the heater and wiping her hands against her apron. Davy winced at the sound of his full name, which his mother only ever used when she was in a foul mood. Deciding not to defend himself out of fear of agitating the already frustrated woman, he merely shrugged apologetically and took his seat at the table.

The house was small and dingy; the sparsely scattered windows allowed for very little sunlight to enter the two rooms, and they were currently covered with old bed sheets and rags to keep out the rain. The furniture was limited to the table, three chairs, and the mattress the three of them slept on every night. The stove was his mother's prized possession, an old and ineffective cast-iron beast that didn't work half the time and burned their meals the other half. As the family sat down to eat, all was silent except for the occasional sound of a wooden spoon scraping against the side of a bowl until Mrs. Jones broke the silence.

"Yer father's returnin'," she told them quietly, as thunder rumbled in the distance. The children didn't say anything in response to this news for several minutes.

"When?" Davy finally inquired, his voice cold and his eyes as distant as the thunder had been.

"Didn't bother t'ask, meself. Should be within t'next month er so."

The rest of the grotesque meal was slurped down without another word. Although she was only seven, Rebecca could tell the subject was one that should not be touched in Davy's presence, and Davy didn't want to burden his younger sister with the knowledge of the kind of man their father really was.

David Robert Jones II was a black market merchant, selling goods gathered from across the world to anyone willing to pay a significant amount of coin for it. However, instead of using the large amount of money he earned to support his family, he merely threw it away on alcohol, prostitutes, and the other items required to live his lavish lifestyle in the Caribbean. The man hadn't been around his family much in the years since Rebecca had been born, but for the seven years before he'd been living in the very same house they now inhabited. Davy learned promptly that his father had a quick and violent temper, and that the bruises lining his mother's arms were not, as she claimed, the result of milking temperamental cows in the pasture.

David Robert married miss Cassandra Gutierrez after making port in the Spanish city of Cádiz. It was the last stop for the group of rum runners he'd worked with at the time, and, as always, he'd taken to spending the entirety of his stay on land in the company of women. Two months after leaving Cádiz, David Robert received word that Cassandra was carrying his child, and that her father would send the small but effective armada under his command after Jones, were he not to make Cassandra his bride.

Seven months later, Davy was born. Two months after that, David Robert came to the realization that the boy made a good punching bag in times of stress. Cassandra was too fearful to stand up to the man, but seeing her son abused broke her spirit and she regressed into the soft-spoken, brooding woman she at the present.

For seven years, both Davy and his mother were covered with bruises and full of broken bones. The inhabitants of the nearby town steered clear of the family, refusing to help the mother and child. When Cassandra became pregnant with Rebecca, David Robert turned his full attention to Davy, sending the boy to the family doctor in a coma after a particularly stressful week of trying to find work. Davy woke up ten days later, and was never the same again. The only person he'd ever allowed to grow close to him afterwards was his baby sister, and that was only because he knew she would need his protection.

With the knowledge that his father was returning, Davy also knew that he could not stand by and watch the monster tear apart his cheerful little sister. He knew he would have to do something before the man could get to her, and he had the heavy feeling in his gut that he knew exactly what that something was.


	2. Chapter 2

_A/N -_ 'Ello! I was going to wait until tomorrow to upload this snippet, but I figured I might as well put it up tonight! It ends on a rather dark note, just as a warning. No worries, though, nothing too dreadful occurs in the next chapter! The chapter after that, though, you may want to close your eyes and hide under the sheets with your favorite teddy bear. ;( Never fear, the story will have it's high points as well as it's low points, after all, Davy dearest is half of the most epic love story in all of piratey history!  
Also, I'd like to send a special thanks out to Nytd, who took the time to give chapter one an extremely helpful and encouraging review! I've always admired your writing, and your review made me all warm and fuzzy and put me in the writing mood. I hope you enjoy this next chapter even more! :)  
Without further ado, here is chapter two!  
REVIEWS ARE LOVED!

* * *

"But Davy, I wanna come wi'ye!" whined Becky for the hundredth time, wrapping her thin arms around her brother's waist and forcing him to drag her along behind him like a human wedding train.

"No, no, no! I've told ye coun'less times, no!" he said firmly, turning to remove his attached sibling and placing his hands on her shoulders, "I'm goin' to town t'find work, Becky. Ye'd not have much fun, anyhow."

"But I love goin' to town!" she huffed, giving Davy what she believed to be a stern, angry look. The sight of her contorted features merely made him chuckle as he ruffled her hair, turning to walk away.

"Tell mum I'll be back fer supper, wee one," he smiled, walking out the door and leaving Rebecca pouting on the floor, drawing shapes in the dust and muttering dejectedly.

It took slightly less than an hour for Davy to reach the town on foot. While the streets were empty, as almost everyone was inside having their midday meals, he couldn't help but feel claustrophobic. He hated the feeling of walls closing in the streets, directing him down particular routes and forbidding him the ability to roam freely. Davy relished the openness of the fields back home; the feeling that he could run in infinite directions and take infinite trails through the rolling pasture was like no other he'd ever experienced.

Immediately heading for the docks, Davy began his search for a job. He slowly sauntered around the stalls, in no hurry to return home, mulling over the plan that he'd spent the previous night concocting after learning his abusive father was returning home to Ayrshire. He would need money, that was certain. Not a fortune, but just enough to buy necessary materials and passage out of Scotland, maybe even out of Europe entirely. As much as the thought of what he would do frightened him, he knew he had to save his family.

Stopping at the site where a fishing vessel was tied at the docks, he craned his neck to see if anyone was around. The boat intrigued him; the wood was worn and dark, obviously weathered from years at sea. Davy's clear blue eyes wandered over the deck of the _Flounder_, taking in the masts, rolled up and tied off for port. He admired the shape of the vessel, streamlined and prominent, as if it sliced through the water rather than floated atop it. While small, the _Flounder_ was the first sailing vessel Davy had ever seen, to his knowledge, and he was struck by it. His gaze finally came to rest upon the horizon, far beyond the boat and touching the edge of the world. The sun, still high in the afternoon sky, was reflected in countless dazzling beams as the waves churned and swelled far in the distance.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" a deep voice asked from over Davy's shoulder. The boy spun around, not out of surprise but curiosity. The man behind him was dressed modestly, but his clothes bore none of the grit and grime that covered Davy's. The sun beat down on the stranger's tanned skin, suddenly making Davy conscious of just how pale his own skin was. Slowly tearing his dark eyes from the ocean, the man turned to face Davy with a smile, "Sorry to frighten you, lad."

"Ye didn't frigh'en me, sir," Davy replied, studying the man further. His face seemed as weathered as the boat before them, wrinkles working their way deep into his features. His dark brown eyes were offset by a head of gray hair, cropped short about his ears. His accent was definitely not Scottish, and seemed to carry a light Spanish tone to it, though Davy could not pinpoint it.

"I often stay out for hours just watching the way the sun plays across the ocean's surface, myself," the man continued, "It never loses its wonder."

"I'd imagine that'd be true, sir," Davy concurred, as both the boy and the man returned their attention to the sea. A few minutes passed in silence, both strangers enraptured by the brilliance of the spectacle, before the man remembered where they were.

"Oh! But you must have some reason to be standing before my humble vessel, correct?" he smiled warmly, his eyes now traveling over Davy, sizing the boy up. Davy was thin, but what little meat he had on his bones was purely muscle, built up from years of helping his mother tend to the livestock.

"Yes," Davy said, a rush of anxiety sweeping over him, "I be lookin' fer work, sir, if ye please."

"Ah, I figured as much," the man offered Davy his hand, "Richard Harris."

"Davy- Err- David Jones, sir," Davy shifted his weight from foot to foot uncomfortably as he clasped hands with Richard. He'd never felt as if he had to prove himself to anyone, as he'd spent most of his life around family, and this unfamiliar situation had turned him into the embodiment of nervous energy.

"Davy Jones, you say?" Richard smiled, "Has a nice ring to it."

"Me mum thinks so, as well, sir. Must b'why she takes to screamin' it at me s'much, seein' as it's not as if I've e're forgotten it," Davy joked, only stopping to wonder whether the jest was appropriate after the words had been spoken. Richard's hearty laugh soothed Davy's nerves, and the pair exchanged smiles.

"Well, Davy, have you enjoyed a lunch today?" Richard asked, his eyes twinkling with amusement.

"No, sir, I 'avent," Davy answered. Richard turned and began walking away from the docks, stopping when he realized the boy wasn't following him. Davy stood in front of the _Flounder_, his face communicating his obvious confusion.

"Well, come on! Can't have a young lad start his first day of honest work with an empty belly, can we?" Richard called, grinning at the young man who jogged towards him.

"Thank ye, sir!" Davy smiled, walking alongside his newfound employer. A weight lifted off the boy's shoulders as he realized his plan was gaining momentum. The two walked along the dockside shops for near a quarter of an hour, when Richard caught sight of his other employee.

"Emmett!" he shouted in a jolly tone, "Come meet the fresh recruit!"

At the sound of his name, a tall boy with olive skin darkened by the sun jumped and turned, searching for the familiar body that matched the familiar voice. This newcomer appeared to be no more than eighteen years of age, and he was dressed in the same manner as Harris. When he'd located Richard, he gave his boss a nod and turned to the young lady he'd been standing with, pecking her cheek with a kiss before striding off to join Richard and Davy.

Richard gazed at Emmett in a mixture of interest and amusement, "I see you've seduced yet another young maid?"

Emmett grinned and shrugged, "Can't help bein' so damn charmin', sir!" His voice rose and fell in a songlike manner, spinning the colloquial phrase into something worthy of poetry as his accent worked into the words. Davy's expression must have betrayed his amazement in regard to this strange lad, because Emmett turned to face him and held out a hand, "So you're the newcomer, yes?"

Davy managed to force his curiosity back into his mind before taking Emmett's hand, "Davy Jones, pleased t'meet ye."

"Likewise, Davy. Emmett Petrelli," replied the older boy.

"Join us for lunch, Emmett!" Richard offered, patting the young man on the back with one of his big hands.

"Glad to, sir!"

And so the three made their way to a modest pub sitting on the edge of the docks, overlooking the horizon that still managed to enchant Davy as he entered the establishment. Davy sat quietly as Harris split a loaf of fresh bread between the three of them, sipping at the strangely warm and bubbly drink that had been ordered for him.

"So, Davy, you're… Thirteen?" Emmett asked, his honest interest in the boy apparent on his stunning features.

"Four'een, but me birthday be jus' a few weeks from now," Davy replied proudly, taking a more confident swig from what he would later learn was a pint of rum, "Where ye be from, Mr. Petrelli? Yer speakin' is a might diff'rent from anythin' I e're heard."

Emmett smiled, "Please, just call me Emmett. My family is from Italy, I was raised in Genoa."

"I picked up Emmett here when he was just a lad your age!" Richard added, his cheeks already a bit rosy from his downed pint, "I was born in England, but my family moved to Perpignan when I was no more than an infant."

"The devil's fluent in French and Spanish, he understands everything," Emmett interjected, rolling his eyes exaggeratedly at his employer. Davy laughed softly, finally relaxing in the company of the two older men.

The three spent the rest of the afternoon trading stories, laughing and ordering round after round of drinks, though Davy refused any more for fear of being overcome by the jolly liquid. Davy found himself enchanted by the stories the two had of their travels at sea. Richard Harris had once captained a much mightier vessel than the _Flounder_, only retiring to Scotland because he had a cousin living nearby in need of his aid. The man had picked up Emmett when he was a vagabond, pick pocketing unsuspecting tourists in Italy's great port city, and the two had been inseparable ever since.

"He's like a son to me," Harris explained, his eyes resting on Emmett as his mouth curved into the most genuine and warm smile Davy had ever witnessed.

Davy felt a pang in his chest as he was suddenly confronted with the reminder of what he needed to accomplish in the following weeks, if he had any hope of seeing his baby sister smiling like that in her uncertain future. Standing up from the table and resting his hands against it, he announced his exit.

"I should be getting' home 'fore me mum starts 'er frettin'," he said, attempting to muster up the most sheepish expression he could, "'Sides, I wouldn't want t'be tired fer me first day o'work, would I?"

"Of course! Don't let us keep you, young lad!" Richard said, his voice a little too loud as the drink had spread a haze over his mind, "Oh! Before you go…" the man rummaged through his pockets and withdrew a small handful of coins, placing them in Davy's hand and smiling, "Go ahead and get yourself some new clothes, lad. Need my crew looking as dashing as possible!" Richard proclaimed with an exaggerated wink. Emmett rolled his eyes again, smirking knowingly behind his boss's back. Davy smiled, both at Emmett and Richard, and accepted the money.

As he turned to leave, Davy counted the money. His heartbeat hastened as he realized he had enough to buy what he needed already, and he managed to throw a smile over his shoulder as Emmett called out across the pub.

"See you tomorrow, Jonesie!"

"See ye t'morrow," Davy returned, striding out the front door. His being had once again become determined, set upon what was required of him with a frightening strength. Without hesitation, the boy entered the smithy. He would buy the requested clothing in town tomorrow morning, but for now he needed to settle his spirit on his cause. Quickly picking out the least expensive item, Davy paid the blacksmith who raised a questioning eyebrow at him.

"For your father?"

"Yes," Davy answered coldly, without hesitation.

Shrugging off his brief curiosity, the blacksmith wrapped the item in a thin rag and waved the lad out of his shop, closing up for the night.

Davy, whose confidence in his plan had only been bolstered and confirmed by the day's events, made his way home. Every step he took increased his resolve, as the long, sharp, icy dagger he'd just purchased and hidden pressed against his back with each movement he made.


	3. Chapter 3

_A/N - _Once again, thank you for all of the lovely support and reviews! Keep 'em coming! ;)  
Also, a friend of mine asked me how I figure out how to phonetically write out the Scottish accents for Davy and 'is lovely fam'ly. It's actually a bizarre mixture of me repeating their words out loud until they sound relatively believable as Scottish, and a little help from the angry Scottish man's voice that reads them to me in my head. Bizarre, yet apparently effective. I do have a bit of an infatuation with the word "wee," so I apologize if I ever overuse it in the chapters to come.  
Emmett gets a tad fancy with the Italian in this chapter, basically using the language to create an assortment of pet names for Becky and Davy, we'll see if you can figure out what he calls them through your knowledge of latin root words and/or Google Translate. ;D  
Essentially, this chapter is much lighter than the previous chapters, in an attempt to keep y'all from thinking any suicidal thoughts in the chapters to come. I figured Becky and Davy needed to have a bit o'cheer, since this is the last time either of them will be happy/together for a while. Never fear, though, Becky will come back eventually! After all, she's too darn cute to disappear forever. :)  
Enjoy!

* * *

"And Harris calls _me_ a charmer!" Emmett shouted across the docks at Davy, who was walking down the planks with Becky's hand in his. It had been near eleven days since Davy had begun working under Richard Harris. The _Flounder_ was in slight disrepair, so the majority of the workdays had been spent mending the injuries she had accumulated in the previous year.

His first day of work, Davy had arrived in his newly-acquired set of clothing, proud as can be. While Emmett teased him about being a lady's man, Davy spent the day discovering how unkind the coastal sunshine could be to a boy unused to the sun's unrelenting rays. He woke up the second day with vicious sunburn over every exposed body part, and was put to work coiling rope after Richard and Emmett had had a good laugh. By the third day, Davy's hands had been covered in unpleasant blisters and sores, but the worst of these had healed over, leaving his hands rough to the touch but available for use in his deckhand duties.

"Dun' be getting' any ideas, ye righ' crazy beast," Davy laughed in return, as he and Becky stopped before the fishing vessel, "This 'ere is m'sister, Rebecca."

Becky smiled and ran toward the ship, her arms outstretched, emitting a squeal of excitement. Before she could launch herself into the _Flounder_, Emmett scooped her up with one arm and set her firmly on the deck, kneeling down in front of the crestfallen girl.

"Tell me, miss Rebecca, can you swim?" he asked, smiling and resting one of his hands on her shoulder.

"No..." she admitted shyly, her hands clasped behind her back as she swiveled her body from side to side.

"Then it might be best not to attempt leaping across open water to land in a boat, yes?" Emmett winked slightly and grinned at the child. Davy raised an eyebrow and shook his head, chortling to himself at their pending conversation.

"I s'pose ye'd be righ' abou' that… Why'd ye talk s'funny?"

"Why, bambina, that would be because I'm from the most wonderful country there is!" Emmett declared proudly.

"China?!" Becky asked excitedly, jumping up and down on the balls of her feet. Emmett was taken aback for a moment, staring at the girl with raised eyebrows before laughing and patting her back.

"No, little scimmia, that would be Italia! Where the food is heavenly and the women ar-" Emmett stopped when Davy gave a little cough of warning, glaring at his Italian friend, "Anyhow, the women are… Nice!" he finished lamely, shrugging apologetically at Davy who rolled his eyes and smirked.

"D'ye 'ave family 'ere in Ayrshire?" Becky asked, becoming more and more fascinated with this strange man.

"Sadly, no," Emmett said, attempting a smile and shaking his head, not going into the subject any further than he had when Davy had asked the same question.

"Are ye married?" she fired off another question, smiling timidly and tilting her head towards the boards of the deck, peeking up at Emmett through her thin brown hair with her round eyes. Davy could hardly keep his jaw from dropping off of his face, and Emmett chuckled quietly, ruffling Becky's hair.

"I'm afraid I'm not quite ready to settle down just yet, scoiattolo."

Davy combed his fingers through his hair and sighed, reconsidering his decision to allow Becky to accompany him. She'd gotten into the habit of clinging to his left leg each morning as he was preparing to leave, and he'd gotten tired of having to drag around fifty extra pounds of whining little sister for upwards of twenty minutes daily. He snuck up behind the small girl and wrapped his arms around her waist, lifting her into the air and causing her to shriek with laughter.

"It's 'igh time we let Emmett 'ere get back to 'is work, Becky," he said, throwing her over his shoulder and hooking his arm around her knees. Rebecca nodded and giggled happily, flailing about as her brother carefully carried her aboard the _Flounder_. He deposited Becky on a barrel of oil before retrieving the mast he had been assigned to mend. There was a large tear clear through it, and it was his responsibility to ensure it was seaworthy by the end of the day. The boy deftly cut a measure of thread, located a needle, and set to work. Becky, however, gleefully spun around on her perch, relentlessly bombarding her brother with question after question in an attempt to satisfy her endless curiosity.

"Wha's that?"

"The 'elm, Becky. It be where the captain steers the ship an' gives out 'is captainly orders."

"Wha's that?"

"A brace. 'Elps to keep the masts steady and t'steer 'em in the righ' directions."

"An' what abou' that?"

"Becky, that'd be a mop," Davy huffed, rolling his eyes at Rebecca, "If ye'd please be quiet, I've a mound o'work to be gettin' to."

Becky sighed exasperatedly, rolling onto her back and staring up at the sky, letting her arms drape down against the side of the barrel. A few hours passed, the little girl was long asleep, and Davy had just placed the final few reparative stitches into the canvas. The heavy thud of boots against wood signaled Richard Harris's appearance on the dock, and Davy turned his head to smile at the old man.

"Mornin', sir!"

"Good morning, lad," Richard returned, gazing first at the mended mast in approval, then at the sleeping girl with amusement, "Taking captives, are we?"

"Captives?" Emmett echoed, stepping out from behind Harris and grinning, "Nay, the fearsome Davy Jones ne'er leaves any survivors!"

Davy shifted uncomfortably, not sure that he enjoyed the laughter that ensued at his expense. Once the two older men had calmed down and settled themselves on the vessel's deck, Richard took to examining Davy's work on the canvas.

"Very nice, Jones," he said, clearly impressed, "Not that I'm surprised. Though, this does give me an excuse to ask you to become a permanent installment on our modest crew," Richard added, looking up to note Davy's reaction. The boy's breath hitched in his throat and he gave a shout of joy, beaming at Emmett and Richard, who grinned back at the newly-christened sailor.

"I'll take that as a 'yes', then?"

"Yes, sir!" Davy answered enthusiastically, the volume of his voice suddenly waking Becky from her slumber and causing her to lose her balance atop the barrel. The small creature tumbled into Emmett's lap, sending the company into fits of laughter.

"So who's this charming little one?" Harris asked, smiling as Becky rubbed at her eyes blearily.

"Me little sister, sir," Davy replied, taking Becky from Emmett as the Italian lifted the child off his lap and held her out to her brother, "She's been botherin' me fer days, tryin' t'get me t'bring 'er out 'ere."

"Well, it seems that it worked in her favor," Richard grinned.

"Ol' Davy's got a bit of a soft spot, sir," Emmett added, elbowing Davy in the side and winking exaggeratedly, wincing when the boy returned the playful blow. Becky yawned and snuggled against her brother's chest, quickly returning to the realm of dreams and ignoring the boys' horseplay entirely.

The three men sat on the deck of the Flounder for a couple hours longer, chatting and planning the schedule for the coming month. Emmett was to teach Davy the basics of seafaring, and they would launch their first short fishing expedition in two weeks.

"Ah!" Richard interjected, "Before I forget, here are the wages I owe you both."

Harris tossed two small leather drawstring purses at his employees, each jingling with coins. Emmett snatched his out of the air, and Davy, handicapped by the deadweight of his sibling, missed his entirely. His bag connected with a thump against Becky's shoulder, and her brother caught it before it slid onto the deck. The child merely groaned and shifted positions in Davy's lap, not once opening her eyes.

"Trying to get out of carrying her home, were we?" Emmett chuckled and ruffled Davy's hair, laughing as the younger boy grinned and punched him in the arm in retaliation. The group exchanged a few more lighthearted words before standing up and stretching out their stiffened legs, Davy transferring his sibling to his shoulder.

"I'll expect you here bright and early for the first in a long line of infinitely invaluable and intriguing lessons, marinaio," Emmett called as he walked down the docks in the opposite direction from Davy and Rebecca.

"Ye can coun' on it!" Davy grinned, beginning the journey home with his sister nestled in his arms, sound asleep.

The route back to their abode was vacant, making for a relatively uneventful passage. Davy found himself lonely without his sister to talk to, especially regarding his impending career as a sailor. The sun sunk lower in the deep blue of the sky, the summer air relatively cloudless as the siblings trudged along the dirt road. The path was surrounded by open fields, the grass seeming to reach up towards the sky in an attempt to soak up the last of the sunlight as the celestial body decreased to no more than a sliver of illumination against the edge of the world. Davy stopped to admire the waves of grass, shining a bright and breathtaking green for miles as the sun disappeared, finished warming the earth for the day.

Davy doubled his pace, knowing that there would be trouble if he failed to return Rebecca home before dark. Nearing the familiar hut, he was surprised to see a thin spiral of smoke drifting up towards the heavens from their rarely-used chimney. The windows were alight with the flickering of the small hearth, and the tinkling of his mother's laughter filtered through the humid air.

Gently pushing the door open, Davy could tell something was different. His mother's laugh was an infrequent occurrence at best, but now she seemed to be a fount of giggles and guffaws, from what he could hear from through the thin walls. Gingerly laying Becky upon the mattress, the boy straightened out his breeches and work shirt before treading into the kitchen to inspect the cause of his mother's cheerful inclination.

But the moment his eyes adjusted to the light, Davy stopped dead in his tracks.

His mother stood over the stove, as usual, but there was a guest sitting at the table, his feet propped on Becky's chair and his fingers laced behind his head of dark, matted hair. With a pang, Davy recognized the crook of his father's nose, the sideways smile that frightening man would flash upon occasion, the broad shoulders and lanky body of David Robert Jones II.


	4. Chapter 4

**AN: **Hello, again!  
First off, I owe you guys one hell of an apology for taking so long to update. I've had this chapter nearly completed for a month, but since school began I've had no time to work on it. I finally found a minute, and I'm getting the hang of my new schedule, so I should start updating every couple of days or so.  
Thank you so much to all of you who have been so supportive! Keep the advice and the reviews coming! It really gets me motivated and makes me want to write more for you. ;)  
This chapter is decidedly dark, but I feel that it's necessary. I was going to drag the events in this section out for two chapters, but I feel that's a little too long. Besides, I've got a lot more ground to cover in the scope of Davy's life!  
Enjoy, and look for more updates this weekend!

* * *

Davy froze in the doorway, not daring to take a breath. His father let out a dry cackle in response to something his mother had said, incomprehensible to Davy's overwhelmed mind. Slowly, the figure at the table turned his head to look at his son, smirking at the sight of the young man in his shocked state. Propelling himself from his seat with a kick of one booted appendage, David Robert stumbled towards the fourteen-year-old, holding his arms before him.

"Davy, m'boy!" he roared, reaching to pull Davy towards him. Instinctively, Davy took a quick leap back, out of the reach of his clearly inebriated father. Looking surprised at the sight of his empty arms, the man straightened himself and examined his son with the same blue eyes he'd passed on to him. Although they shared the same lanky physique, David Robert had gained several pounds of extra baggage through his excessive habits while Davy's body was wiry with the beginnings of a sailor's muscles. Davy returned his father's investigative gaze with a steeled, closed stare of his own. Placing his hands on his hips, obviously pleased with the specimen before him, David Robert gave a drunken chortle.

"Wha's th'matter? 'Fraid of a lil' hug?" he slurred, once more lunging towards his son, who dodged his grasp a second time, providing no answer with his rigid body language.

"Davy…" his mother cooed from across the room, smiling over her shoulder, "Aren't ye glad t'see yer father?"

"No," Davy growled under his breath, not once breaking his steely glare into his father's calculating, threatening eyes. David Robert smirked and took a step towards the boy, the beginnings of his familiar rage smoldering in his eyes.

"Wha's tha', boy?" he spat, squaring his body to Davy's and filling the doorway between them, his fingers slowly curling into fists as the muscles hidden beneath a thick layer of fat began to clench and stiffen in anger, "I go ou' o' me way t'sail back home t' you and yer mother, and ye can't e'en bring yerself t'be th' sligh'est bit thankful?"

The stench of alcohol drenched his breath with every word, and Davy's body was instantly pulsing with adrenaline and panic. Determined not to let his fear show, Davy set his jaw and met his father's wrathful eyes, not daring to turn his back to the man in an escape attempt, and suddenly very aware of the dagger that remained hidden under the back of his shirt.

When it became apparent that Davy wasn't freely offering a response, David Robert grabbed the boy by his shirt collar and shook him, yelling incoherently in his anger and raising his fist in preparation. Davy could barely hear his mother's quiet and terrified protests from behind the bulky drunkard over his own throbbing heartbeat, and still refused to give his father the satisfaction of knowing the effect his rage had.

But just before David Robert's fist collided with his son's left eye, Davy could hear a small voice from behind him that obliterated his resolve and sent him into a frenzy of pure terror.

"Daddy?" Becky chirped uncertainly.

There was a loud crack and Davy was on the floor, his hands immediately flying to his eye. He could feel a deep gash across his cheekbone where his father's knuckles had connected, and the blood was already flowing freely down his cheek and neck. His senses were clouded, leaving Davy only able to focus upon his consuming anger and fear. When the ringing in his ears dissipated, Davy could make out his sister's screams of horror, his mother's timid reproaches, and his father's heavy and uneven footsteps stumbling towards Becky.

Davy's eyes snapped open and he lurched forwards, ignoring the darkness that momentarily covered his vision and the dizziness that made him swoon as he regained his footing. His father snatched Becky by her throat, cutting off her shrieks and shaking her as she clawed at his hand with her tiny fingers.

"NO!" Davy roared, throwing himself at his father, his mother's shouts drowned out by his sister's strangled gasps. Becky's eyes pleaded with her father, a man she hardly knew, to release her, but David Robert stared back with the eyes of a wild beast, unfeeling and ruthless. Davy pounded against his father's back, his blows having little effect, until he remembered the dagger pressing against his tailbone.

Becky's breaths were coming in larger intervals, her hands falling to her sides limply as a bluish tint stained her face. Cassandra was a wretched heap on the kitchen floor, wailing as her daughter's life was drained before her eyes by the man she'd married. David Robert brought his daughter's face to his, growling at her as she struggled to draw in her final mouthfuls of air.

"Do you feel death?" he asked.

Davy's spirit snapped, all of his energy flooding into his anger. He drew the dagger from beneath his shirt, letting the rag that had covered it slip off onto the floor. The coppery taste of blood filled his mouth as he snarled and pressed the point of the blade to his father's lower back, just above his right kidney, eliciting another wail from his mother.

"Do you feel death?" Davy echoed, plunging the dagger into his father's back. David Robert let his daughter slip out of his hand and turned his head, his eyes suddenly sobered and shocked as he looked down at his son and the dagger protruding from his spine. Davy yanked the dagger from his father's flesh, bringing it down again and again, paying no attention to the blood that sprayed onto him, soaking his shirt and breeches entirely. This man was going to pay for the years of abuse. For the bruises and the broken bones. For Becky.

Cassandra's screams ricocheted through Davy's ears, causing his frenzied stabbing to halt as he stared down at the damage he'd done.

"You…" David Robert sneered in his last moments, "You son of a bitch… Yer life is over."

His head lolled to the side, and he was dead.

Davy collapsed onto his knees, his wide-eyed gaze slowly traveling from his father's bloody corpse to his sister's crumpled, lifeless body. His blue eyes were empty, confused, trying to grasp what had happened. There was nothing he could do; that spritely, lively girl would never again accompany him to the docks. Never again pester him with questions or make improper advances towards a boy who might have been his friend, had he not committed murder moments prior. It was all his fault. His world was crumbling around him, and he was the one who had kicked the supports out from under it. He had been responsible for Becky's death. He was a murderer.

His mother screamed and screamed, ripping at her hair and sobbing uncontrollably. She yelled for him to leave, and never return. He obliged, the dagger still clutched in his white-knuckled fist as he shakily made his way out the door and into the cloudy night sky.

A peal of thunder rumbled in the distance, and Davy took what little comfort he could muster in the familiar sound. The thought that there was something out there bigger than his sorrows gave him a flicker of hope that maybe this was meant to be. Maybe this was his destiny.

Without thinking, Davy stumbled off in the direction of town. He walked slowly, letting the night saturate his body. The wound in his cheek had finally stopped bleeding so profusely, and only seeped small droplets of blood that flowed into his mouth as a constant reminder of all that had happened.

The rain began trickling downwards when he was halfway to the city, washing the blood from his hands and from the dagger's blade as he walked along the roadside. As much as he would have liked to cry, to let his emotions escape his body, he found it impossible.

By the time he'd entered the sleeping streets, the storm was upon him. Winds whipped past him, streaking through his hair and blowing painful salt water into his face. He made his way straight to the docks, the only place he felt that he belonged, a place he had come to love in the short period of time he'd been familiar with it. The ocean churned and pounded against the wooden planks, causing them to creak against one another in their strain to stay together. Davy walked to the end of the dock, letting the ends of his shoes hang over the edge of the boards.

"Wha' more can ye do t'me?" he roared over the vicious waves that continued to break over the docks. The sky growled a response, lightning flashing in the distance and illuminating the dark clouds as they moved towards the coast.

"Wha' more can ye take away from me?" he yelled, all of his agony surging into his voice as he once again dropped to his knees. The water splashed into his lap as he crouched, his mind a tangled mess of panic and hurt and unbearable loss. His life meant nothing, now that what he cared for most had been taken from him.

Taking a deep breath, Davy stood, the dagger still in hand. He closed his eyes, tucking the dagger back into its hiding place in his bloody shirt. Slowly but deliberately, Davy Jones took a step off the dock and threw himself into the sea, placing his life at the mercy of the untamable waters.

He opened his eyes as the first swell shoved him beneath the surface, he opened his mouth to scream for help, but instead found himself with icy water inundating his lungs. As he desperately tried to cough and propel to the surface, another wave crashed overhead and slammed him headfirst into one of the dock's pillars.

In his remaining seconds of consciousness, Davy swore he could feel the soft, gentle arms of a woman pulling him towards the surface, but immediately afterwards all he knew was darkness.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: **I apologize for the extreme lack of updating, once again. I seem to be getting a better handle on my time management, and I've no shortage of ideas for this story, so _definitely_ be looking for more consistant updating from now on. ;)  
Anywhoo, this chapter mostly focuses on Davy's healing; after all, a mopey swashbuckling pirate isn't much of a swashbuckling pirate at all.

* * *

Ice clawed its way out of Davy's lungs and throat as he coughed up mouthful upon mouthful of briny sea water. Making the mistake of opening his eyes, Davy winced as the bright morning light reflecting off the calmed ripples on the ocean's surface stabbed through his vision. A breeze gently soothed his raw skin, causing him to shiver as his wet shirt clung to his heaving chest. Suddenly aware of the wooden planks beneath him, Davy reopened his eyes in an instant of panic, not caring that the glaring sun blinded him once more and scrambling to his feet, still coughing. He spun around, taking in his surroundings and trying to gain his bearings. Dizzy, his head pounding, Davy felt himself swooning and grabbed the wooden railing he'd been slumped against moments prior. Letting out an involuntary yelp as splinters bit into his tender hands, Davy's knees gave out beneath him and he fell to the deck of an unfamiliar ship.

The sea had left his flesh vulnerable, the salt wearing it away and tearing at his newly-acquired armor of calluses. He had no memory of what had happened after he'd been thrown into the dock's pillar the previous night, though the memories of the murders were as fresh and painful as his bleeding palms. Choking back a sob, Davy held his head in his hands, not particularly caring that he had absolutely no idea where the ocean had taken him.

A hand gently pressed against his back, and Davy's head jerked up, one of his own hands instinctively reaching for the dagger that remained concealed beneath his clothing. Before he could get a grip on the blade, the newcomer grabbed Davy's wrist firmly and slowly pulled it away from the dagger.

"Woah, there, lad," a rough voice chuckled from behind him. Davy frantically leapt to his feet to face the stranger, managing to free his wrist and brandishing the knife at the man before him. The man raised his eyebrows bemusedly and grinned at Davy, but before he could speak a familiar figure appeared over the stranger's shoulder.

"Davy," Richard Harris spoke softly, calmly reaching out to lower the boy's outstretched arm.

"Mis'er 'Arris," Davy rasped, his voice hitching in his throat and his body shaking as his emotions rushed to meet him on deck, "She… She's dead," Davy let the dagger slip through his fingers and crumpled onto the deck once more, allowing the anguished cry to take the air from his lungs as the blade clattered against the planks next to him.

"We know, Davy," Richard told him, kneeling down beside the trembling boy and placing a hand on Davy's knee, "Your mother ran into town this morning. Everyone knows."

Davy's eyes remained fixated on the dagger as he croaked, "Why'd ye save me? I deserved t'drown, why'd ye 'ave t'drag me sorry ass ou' o'the sea last nigh'?"

Richard's eyebrows knitted themselves together in concern, "Davy, we've only just pulled you from the sea minutes ago. Emmett and I came to the docks this morning to find the _Flounder_ gone, and with all the talk and the storm, we thought you'd up and left."

Davy chuckled ruefully, "As if I could'a piloted th'ship ou' o'the port in th'first place," his eyes travelled reluctantly from the knife to meet Harris's, "I jumped. Like a fuckin' coward, I jumped into th'sea in th'worst of the storm."

Harris failed to conceal his surprise and confusion, "No security measures? You're sure?"

"I may be a damned bastard, but I'm no idiot, mis'er 'Arris. I think I'd 'ave remembered somethin' such as tha'," Davy spat angrily, wincing as he balled his wounded hands into fists.

"Davy, we found you lashed to some of the _Flounder's_ remains," Richard explained, gesturing behind him to a tangled mess of rope, wood, and seaweed.

"Mayhaps the lad's got hisself a rather protective mermaid?" the newcomer shot from behind Harris, waggling his eyebrows and smirking. Davy turned his cold gaze on the man, a short, stocky, weathered creature with one eye comically larger than the other and a frazzled beard spraying in all directions from his chin. The man had very little teeth remaining, the majority filled with gold or missing altogether, and he reeked of rum. His ridiculously-large, excessively-feathered hat indicated that he was, in fact, captain of the ship.

"Bartholomew," Richard hissed under his breath, turning to chastise the man, "Let the boy be. He's faced more in the last twenty-ought hours than you've faced in your entire life."

Bartholomew's face dropped slightly and his chortle dissipated into a defensive, uncomfortable chuckle, "Apologies, Harris, just lightening the mood."

Richard rolled his eyes exasperatedly and returned his attention to Davy, "This poor excuse for a man is Captain Bartholomew Roberts," Harris tapped his boot on the deck and gestured around the ship, "And this is the _Royal Fortune_."

"Welcome aboard!" Roberts added cheerfully.

Davy's mind continued to spin, unable to absorb any new information and unwilling to let his thoughts wander from the murder of his dear sister and his inevitable exile from the place he called home. Bloodstains still covered his clothes, the thought of being drenched in his father's blood causing his stomach to churn.

"Jonesie?" another familiar call rose above the noise of the sea and the crew, "Is he breathing?" Emmett's voice grew even louder as he sprinted across the deck and his eyes twinkling as he spotted his friend crouched against the deck, "Jones! Amico!"

Davy forced a weak smile as Emmett threw his arms around the broken soul, "'Ello, Emmett."

Richard offered the two young men hands up, and both accepted, Davy taking a long moment to gain his sea legs. Part of him screamed for an end, for him to turn and leap from the ship, for death. But the rest of him clung desperately to what little he had left, focused only on keeping his faint heartbeat from ceasing to pump life through him, no matter the pain that went along with living it.

Bartholomew, seemingly content with the situation, marched off to perform his duties as captain. Richard instructed Emmett to take Davy below then followed the captain, undoubtedly to keep the wild man out of trouble.

* * *

Davy let the sobs wrack his body, wringing his damaged hands and hanging his head as warm tears trickled down his cheeks. He looked up at the ceiling, begging for relief from the pain as the ship creaked and waves rushed past outside. Emmett had left him alone at his request, after giving Davy a comforting embrace and praying with the boy for nearly an hour. Davy's heart throbbed with every thought and memory of Rebecca, his throat curving hungrily around each gasp of air.

"Why'd I 'ave to live?" he wondered allowed almost inaudibly, a new stream of tears cutting across his face.

"Come, now, me love," a voice cooed from the other end of the bunk. Davy froze and whipped around to face the speaker.

His gaze was met by two glowing, amber irises beneath a tangle of dreadlocks and threadbare fabric. The woman's warm, coffee skin was flawless, her eyes wide but not threatening in the slightest. She wore a woven russet gown that was probably luxurious at one point, but was now reduced to mangled shreds. She appeared to be only a few years older than Davy, and her features were as fierce and singular as the rest of her. Her voice was dripping with a rich, unfamiliar accent that was completely exotic to Davy, and her full lips curved around the bright smile that greeted his shocked, drained gaze. She stroked the side of Davy's face with a soft hand, trailing her fingers along his jaw, and Davy was too confused and exhausted to object.

The woman spoke gently, empathetically matching Davy's eyes with her own, "Your wishes cannot keep you from what fate has already decided, Davy Jones."

Suddenly, the feeling of the woman's skin felt all too familiar against Davy's, and his eyes widened with the realization, "Ye be th'one tha'saved me."

She smiled warmly and gave a nod, "Yes."

"Why?"

"Davy," the sound of his name spoken by her lips sent shivers down his spine, "You are too young to understand that life brings both suffering and happiness. When all seems dark, when all hope is lost, the light is just over the horizon. You have a purpose, Davy Jones. Do not disappoint me," the woman gave Davy a coy smile, at which Davy cocked his eyebrows confusedly.

"What's tha' supposed t'mean, woman? Wha's yer name?"

Ignoring his inquiries, the woman stood and walked to the wall that was part of the ship's hull. Placing her palm against the planks, she smiled over her shoulder, "I look forward to our next meeting, Davy Jones."

Leaning against the boards, she melted through the solid wood, leaving Davy alone with a stupefied look splashed onto his features. For a few seconds, Davy's mouth flapped and croaked noncommittally around words he couldn't find to say to nobody in particular. Once his senses caught up with him, Davy scrambled from his bunk, throwing his cabin door open and sprinting to the deck, shouting for Emmett.

"What is it?" Emmett asked, immediately alarmed. He trotted over to Davy, leaving his post and trying to decipher the boy's spluttering.

"Is th'ship haunted?" Davy finally coughed up through the mess of syllables.

"Haunted?" echoed Bartholomew Roberts, sauntering over with his hands on his protruding stomach, "Lad, the sea is bursting with the tortured souls of those lost to its waters, every _real_ sailor knows that," he declared, winking sideways at Emmett and nudging the Italian's side with an elbow, encouraging him to continue the Captain's ridiculousness. Emmett shook his head slightly and glared back at the man before placing his hands on Davy's arms, forcing the boy to calm down.

"Th-There was a woman," Davy explained, his mind still attempting to comprehend the things he'd seen, "I think I may 'ave imagined her-"

"Well, I think I speak for all present when I say that's something all men do, if you catch my drift, sonny," Roberts interjected, making crude hand gestures and winking exaggeratedly. Emmett shot him a disgusted look and jerked his head to the side, silently banishing the Captain from the conversation. Dejectedly, Bartholomew obliged.

By this point, Richard had joined Emmett, uttering soothing reassurances in an effort to anchor their friend back to their own reality.

"Davy, if there were any women aboard, Emmett here would have them swooning over his every word, by now," Richard said, his eyes twinkling as Davy gave a reluctant snort of half-laughter and Emmett eyed them both sordidly, "I'd recommend you get some rest, it may have been the weariness playing tricks on your mind. The Good Lord knows you have much to be weary over," Richard advised gently, sending a brief glance skyward as if checking to see whether someone in heaven had heard his words.

Emmett only nodded his agreement, and Davy, too tired to persist in his knowledge that he had witnessed the supernatural, complied. Emmett, once again, accompanied his comrade below, leaving Davy to his thoughts after a few words of further consolation.

Lying back on his bunk, Davy's eyes were affixed to the spot the strange woman had occupied less than an hour earlier. Never had he seen a creature of such peculiar beauty – He'd often imagined sailing off to distant islands, trading with primitive tribes or living in luxury among the wealthy English annexes in the Caribbean, but never such a specimen as he had been confronted with. All at once, she terrified and intrigued him, comforted him and made him feel the need to crawl out of his own skin.

As he drifted off to sleep, a clean, dry shirt on his back and the gentle rocking of the ship cradling him, he could smell spices and salts and feel a woman's warm fingers trailing along the side of his face in the world of peace and dreams.

**A/N:** AH-HAH! See what I did there? ;D  
Although some of you may think it a bit odd that he meets the love of his life at the tender age of 14, I believe that, for her to affect him so deeply, he should have an attachment to her that goes beyond that of simply being lovers later in his life. Yes? Yes.  
Look for chapter six within the next few days!  
Thank you so much for reading and bearing with me and my awful time management skills!  
Reviews are much-loved! ;)


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N:** Wow. It has certainly been forever since I've updated here on FF. Apologies, apologies, apologies! I switched computers, lost all of my backed-up writing, went off to college for a year, and woke up this morning with an email from the wonderful commongoal that reminded me of my long-lost love for fan fiction! As I have a wide-open schedule for the next four months of summer vacation (Christ, I love college), I promise to continue updating much, MUCH more frequently from now on.

As a side note, I want to address the issue of "foul" language in this piece. Though the pirates in Disney's movies do not swear, actual pirates were – let's face facts – pretty damn fond of it. Besides, what's a thrilling tale of adventure without a few colorful words mixed in here and there? I promise to keep the piratey profanities to a minimum, but sometimes I just can't help myself.

Without further ado, let's get this circus back on the road, folks!

* * *

"Marinaio, marinaio! Wake up, my fair-skinned marinaio!" The words cadenced down the small corridor leading to Davy's cabin. Davy's eyes opened slowly and a bleary groan rumbled out of his throat. Emmett bounded into the room, light steps carrying him across the floorboards and ceasing as he pounced onto Davy's bunk.

"Wha'… What th'ell?" Davy mumbled as Emmett shook him into consciousness.

"Oh, ragazzino, a wounded spirit is most easily mended by manual labor!" Emmett grinned, dragging Davy from the bunk by his wrists, "The sun is ablaze, the canvas is full, and we are at sea! Rejoice, my friend!"

Davy stood wearily, a half-hearted smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. Emmett pranced around the small space and continued to shout words of encouragement in his lyrical native tongue as Davy groggily pulled on a fresh set of clothing. Davy had no real concept of time in the enclosed space, but the various aches that inundated his body told him that it was considerably early.

"What th'ell?" he repeated, more coherently.

Emmett ceased his excited movements and smiled, "Have you forgotten your training already, Jonesie? You are already a day behind on your education!"

"Oh…" Davy sighed, his mind still lurching to comprehend the events unfolding. "Oh!" he gasped, suddenly remembering his job aboard the ill-fated _Flounder_.

Emmett was already halfway down the hall when Davy caught up with him, Emmett's cheerful whistling brightening Davy's mood considerably. The pair stepped onto the deck of the _Royal Fortune_ and Davy shielded his eyes from the sunrays beating down onto the relatively large vessel. The flurry of motion that surrounded Davy surprised him: men were scattered all across the deck working on every facet of the ship, sweat pouring from their sun-baked bodies as the rotund Captain Roberts barked orders from his stance at the helm.

"Bugger me," Davy whispered under his breath, taken aback by the spectacle.

"Be careful what you wish for," Richard Harris replied as he walked to stand beside the boys, his eyes crinkling with mirth, "Bart runs a tight ship here, Jones. Emmett, he wants you on lookout," he continued. Emmett mock-saluted Harris and made quick work of scaling the main mast gracefully.

"Mr. Petrelli, you're moving with the poise of a fine lady this morning!" chortled the captain as Emmett reached the summit of the wooden structure.

"Aye, sir!" came the reply from overhead, "I suspect that may have something to do with the immeasurable amount of women I have had the pleasure of entertaining in my short life, but I do not think you will ever be able to relate, mio capitano pazzo!"

Harris shook his head bemusedly and Captain Roberts unleashed several hearty guffaws in response, the work on the deck never ceasing though many of the crew shared in their captain's laughter. Davy was too distracted by the sheer number of men necessary to keep the _Royal Fortune_ afloat; the swaying motion of the ship accompanied by the lively activity of nearly sixty men elicited a churning sensation in his gut. Suddenly realizing that his discomfort was not entirely psychological, Davy rushed to the railing and leaned over the side just in time to release a fountain of, well, sick. Having heaved the contents of his stomach into the sea and slumped against the railing for support, Davy was once again joined by Harris.

"Don't worry about that, lad," Richard said reassuringly, "it's to be expected. You've never been to sea before, have you?"

"Nossir," Davy replied, his embarrassment revealing itself in the red flush creeping up his neck.

"Aye, most men cannot handle the sea upon first meetin' her!" cried Bartholomew, sauntering toward them. Davy eyed the man critically, not forgetting the shock aroused by their unexpected encounter the previous day.

"Yessir," he said quietly.

"Lad!" the captain roared, "You're at sea! You ought to talk like a seaman!"

"Aye, captain," Davy corrected himself sheepishly. He found the captain's constantly-high volume of speaking off-putting, but didn't dare say as much in his present company.

"Quartermaster Harris!" Roberts continued, "Show the lad to his duties, we'll not have any slack aboard our boat." The elephant of a man stomped off to pester other members of the crew and Richard sighed.

"Sorry about him, my boy," the pair began walking as Richard slung an arm over Davy's shoulders to hold him steady, "We've been friends for quite some time, he and I. Longer than I'd care to admit to. When your mother came to town yesterday, he happened to be in port. He was kind enough to give Emmett and myself use of his ship in hopes of finding you," the ever-present wrinkles that crowned the corners of Harris's eyes deepened as he smiled down at the boy. Davy attempted to return the gesture but was interrupted by the unstoppable need to vomit again.

Dry-heaving over the edge of an enormous ship was not what Davy had had in mind for his first day at sea, but he soon overcame the urge to eject the contents of his digestive tract at regular intervals. With the help of Richard and Emmett, he picked up his duties as a deckhand with ease well before witnessing the fantastic sunset that signaled the end of his shift. Warm oranges blended into vibrant pinks and yellows as the glowing orb sunk into the ocean and slipped the _Royal Fortune's_ surroundings into darkness.

"Piacevole," breathed Emmett as he leaned against the railing beside Davy.

"An' just wha' does that mean?" the younger boy asked, grinning and turning to face his friend as the sun disappeared.

"Beautiful," Emmett replied, then reconsidered his response, "Well, not simply 'beautiful.' It is beautiful as in… As in a 'nice' or 'peaceful' way."

"Couldn't ye 'ave just said 'beautiful,' then?"

"Ah, piccolo marinaio, but that would remove the romance from it! What is life without the romance?" Emmett answered, throwing his arms above his head in one of his various overdramatic gestures, "Besides," he added conspiratorially, "The ladies adore it, you see?"

"I… No, not really," Davy laughed, shrugging as they began to make their way below deck.

"You will in time, marinaio! In time!"

They parted ways as Davy chuckled and turned into his small cabin. His muscles begged for rest and it came as soon as he laid back on his bunk, the swells of the sea slowly rocking him to sleep and the traumatic and strange events of the day before sinking with the sun.

* * *

Davy was, once again, rudely awakened by Emmett. This time, however, the Italian's normally-smooth voice was bent with notes of panic.

"Jones! Jones, mio amico, wake up! A ship has been spotted, we are needed on deck."

Davy's eyes snapped open and he frantically tugged his clothes over sore limbs. Emmett had already ascended into the chaos above before Davy opened the door to his cabin, only to have it slammed square into his face by a passing sailor. Immediately, blood gushed from his broken nose, but Davy cupped his hand protectively over the abused feature and scrambled onto the deck. Men dashed everywhere and it was all Davy could do not to be trampled. Finding a safe location on the quarter deck, he turned around and scanned the sea for the source of the sailors' fear.

On the horizon, barely visible to Davy's naked eye, was a ship-shaped speck. She appeared to be a slightly larger vessel than the _Royal Fortune_, but the distance seemed too great to spark the magnitude of action occurring aboard Roberts's grand ship.

"Wha's happenin'?" Davy inquired as Harris sped by, grabbing Davy firmly by the elbow and dragging the boy in his wake.

"Ship's been spotted. We need to move fast, son!"

"Why, sir? Isshe flyin' pirate colors or somm'at?" Davy asked, the answer to his previous query doing very little to aid his state of utter confusion.

The deck erupted into a bout of laughter, which only served to confuse Davy even more. He looked to Harris, silently requesting a thorough explanation. Richard firmly placed his hands on Davy's shoulders and stared the boy straight in the eye, his expression unreadable yet tinged with a hint of guilt.

"Jones, _we_ are the pirates."


End file.
